


Winter Roses

by klained



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 04:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klained/pseuds/klained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in an alternate universe, where Sandor is made a lord in the north and betrothed to Sansa, he makes frequent visits so she won't be scared of him when they finally marry. Inspired by Kallie's lovely art on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration art can be found here: http://kallielef.tumblr.com/post/71808445079/something-i-needed-to-get-out-of-my-feelings

They had been betrothed almost from the day of her birth. Her father’s friend, King Robert, had wanted to reward his loyalty during Greyjoy’s rebellion. The man many called the Hound refused to be knighted, and so he had been elevated to head of a house higher than his bloodthirsty brother and betrothed to Lord Eddard Stark’s first born daughter. After he moved into his new holdfast in the north, Sandor Clegane visited Winterfell at least once a year to meet with her.

Some of Sansa’s earliest memories of her future husband were of a giant of a man scowling at everyone but treating her gently. At each meeting, she would curtsey and tell him she was pleased to see him again. He would say little to her, but she never felt he was displeased. And he always brought her a gift. Sometimes it would be ribbons or bits of silk from the south. For her fifth nameday, he gave her a mirror and told her it had been his mother’s. She had cried for days when she accidentally dropped and broke it. He said nothing when he found out, but by the time he left for his holdfast, the glass was repaired.

On her sixth nameday, Sansa asked for a picnic with her family. The celebration coincided with Sandor’s visit so he had joined. As much as she enjoyed the day with her family, seeing her betrothed sit apart and watch had made her sad. As the older boys had gone off to play at knights, she wandered the meadow, picking wildflowers for him. A large shadow fell over her and she turned to find her betrothed behind her.

“Do you like winter roses, ser?” she’d asked.

The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly. “From you? Aye, I might.”

Six years later, he presented Sansa with a bouquet of dried flowers the night before their wedding.

“You gave these to me six years ago tomorrow, m’lady,” he explained.

Impulsively, Sansa kissed his cheek, then bashfully dashed for her bedchambers, not seeing the smile across his face.


	2. Wondered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor's POV of their betrothal.

Sandor was glad King Robert never made him a knight. With their lying vows, and his brother being one, he never had a good opinion of them. Instead, the king made him a lord in the north and betrothed him to Lord Stark’s first daughter to secure his title. At sixteen, he hadn’t known what to do with an infant, so did not ride to meet her.

When the girl was a year old, Lord Stark called all his bannermen to him for a hunt and Sandor had no way to turn him down. He hunted for a fortnight, meeting the girl for the first time at Winterfell before they rode out. She was barely walking, wobbling out whilst holding her mother’s finger. When she had looked up at him, she hid behind her mother’s skirts, fiery hair and blue eyes peeking out at him. In that moment, he almost decided to never look on her again before the wedding day. On the hunt, his liege had explained the girl was still shy around strangers, swore his appearance, his scars, were not the cause of her fear. He decided to come back again and teach her not to fear him.

An errand to the south, to his brother’s holdings, kept him away until her second nameday. This time she was more confident in her steps but was still shy. He presented her with some hair ribbons he bought from a traveling merchant. The way her eyes lit up convinced him to let her grow accustomed to him. Half a year later, he returned with a bundle of silk. She carried the cloth with her the entire visit, snuggling it like a toy, rubbing her face against the smooth fabric.

On her third nameday, he brought a deer pelt. It was too big for her to hold, but she still wished to nuzzle the fur. He cut a bit off the corner for her to carry as her mother decided what to do with the rest. Her grin lit the hall. Her curtsy was a bit awkward, but at least her smile was genuine.

He was kept away again until her fourth nameday. This time he brought embroidered trim with him. He often caught her hidden in corners, fingers tracing the pattern of the trim the entire length. Lady Stark thanked him for the gifts, assured him they were being saved for the day of their wedding. Sandor had frowned at this. What was the point of bringing the girl gifts if they were locked away? He had a toymaker in the village of his holdfast make a doll that he brought with him several months later. She touched him the first time then, clasping his hand as she thanked him, blue eyes twinkling with joy. He wondered if it would be the same when they were married, if as a woman she would only need gifts to look kindly at him.

On her fifth nameday, he brought his mother’s hand mirror. He had little memory of his mother, save for watching a tall, dark-haired woman examining herself in the mirror. When he wasn’t careful, he let himself imagine her, imagine she had been beautiful. The girl was pretty herself, in the way he thought children were supposed to be. Not like he had been, plain before his brother disfigured him. He thought she might enjoy the gift. The girl treated it delicately, holding it to her as if it were her most prized possession. Then she did not come down for the feast that night. For several days there was no sight of her and he began to wonder if he had done something to upset her. Finally her mother brought the girl to him, red eyed and tear-streaked, crying “it was an accident, I did not mean to” over and over. He gently took the frame and touched the girl’s head, uncertain on how to soothe her. He found a glassmaker in the wintertown that he hired to repair it. Before he left, he gave the repaired mirror to her mother to give back to the girl.

He came back not long after, hoping the girl understood he was not angry. She gazed bashfully up at him, but still kept to the courtesies her septa taught her. When he gave her his mother’s hairbrush, she thanked him politely, and then whispered an extra thank you for repairing the mirror. She began to seek him out after that, watching him as he trained with men-at-arms in the yard, or sitting beside him at meals to tell him some story.

For her sixth nameday, she asked her parents to have a family picnic in the meadow. She had sweetly asked him to join them, calling him “my lord” for the first time. He agreed, but sat apart from the rest of her family. He didn’t belong with the laughing joy of the others. He wondered if she would still be as happy with him and their children as she was with her parents and siblings. Each time she looked towards him, though, he tried to pretend he was enjoying himself. He was a terrible liar around her. At one point she had gotten up to pick wildflowers. When she got too close to the trees, though, he got up and followed her, wanting to ensure her safety. Her nervousness was palpable when she handed him what she called winter roses – there wasn’t a rose in the bunch – but he thanked her. At home, he kept them on the side table in his room. He almost slit his chambermaid’s throat when she suggested throwing the dried weeds out and the rest of his servants cowered from him for months. He hated thinking he was turning into his brother.

A traveling minstrel arrived during his visit to Winterfell six months later. She had sat enraptured, his gift of brocade forgotten completely. He found himself paying the singer to perform for the girl at all hours of the day. During his farewell feast, she had even danced with her brothers, laughing merrily.

His next visit was a hunt with Lord Stark. She followed him as much as she could while he was in Winterfell, her tiny hand holding his. He knew she was still too short to loop her arm through his as she ought to, but he still enjoyed the chance to show he would be gentle to her. At their return, she had hugged her father first then curtsied to him before greeting any of the other lords. He wondered if maybe she was starting to tolerate him.

He was unable to return again until almost a year later. As he rode Stanger into the courtyard, she had run out of the great hall smiling, before she stopped, schooled her features, and gave a perfect curtsy and greeting of “I am glad you have returned, my lord.” He only nodded, thinking her joy was for someone else meant to visit. When no one else came, he only grew confused. Whomever she was looking for, she never spoke of it. Instead she wore the hair combs he’d brought every day of the fortnight. She also spent more time around him than ever. She was tall enough to hold his elbow when they walked, though he had to keep his arm mostly straight. And her stories started to become more fanciful, full of knights and valor and maidens. He tried to remind her he was no knight, was not fond of them, but she had only giggled and told him their sons would be good knights worthy of songs.

Her fascination with knights and valor was evident on her eighth nameday, when she asked her father for a tournament. He wasn’t sure why Lord Stark agreed to it, but he came for her sake. During the presentation, she giddily tied an old ribbon around his arm. He recognized it as one he’d given to her when she was two and wondered if her mother had told her who it came from. Each time he jousted, she clapped for him. At the end, he bowed to her and she threw her arms around his neck, telling him how happy she was that he won. At the feast that night, she led him to his seat at the high table and then sat beside him. She did nothing but smile the whole night. He began to wonder if she felt more than just tolerance for him.

After a hunt to destroy a man-eating wolf from his lands, he brought the pelt to her. She immediately draped it over her shoulders, rubbing the fur against her cheek like she had done years before. In the following years, he brought more ribbons, cloth, his mother’s necklace. Shortly after she turned ten, he arrived to find another minstrel in Winterfell. For the first time, she did not come out to greet him at his arrival. Instead, he found them in the great hall, empty save for the pair. She was sitting on a low bench, enraptured, as he stood above her, singing and playing. He hated the way the musician looked at her, as if he wanted her, but the girl was oblivious to anything but the song. At the sound of his footstep, they both turned to him. The musician backed away, but Sansa had taken Sandor’s hand and pulled him close to hear more. She sang to him for the first time several days later.

He was surprised to find her being followed around by a direwolf pup when she was eleven. The animal was small, but followed her around obediently. He was also surprised to see it was collared in some of the ribbons he’d given her. He never asked, but she told him that her wolf deserved the prettiest ribbons she owned.

The king and his family also arrived during that visit. He saw how the girl looked at the prince, all bright-eyed and rosy cheeked. He hated the boy on sight, but privately told Lord Stark he would willingly step aside if a better match was to be made for the girl. Stark simply shook his head and said it would be dishonorable to promise his daughter to anyone else. She had wept violently, clutching at his waist, when her father and younger sister left for King’s Landing. He was uncertain how to comfort her and simply placed a hand on the back of her head. That seemed to soothe her, if her watery smile was anything to go by.

He began receiving frequent ravens then. Her mother left Winterfell, then her younger brother woke up from his fall, the elder preparing for war when her father got injured. When news of her father’s injury reached him, he rode hard for Winterfell. He arrived just as the Regent Lord Stark was leaving. Before he could volunteer, he was ordered to marry Sansa on her twelfth nameday and keep her safe in his own holdfast. The men-at-arms left behind would keep the two youngest boys safe, he was told.

He stayed only a matter of days, explaining everything, before he left again. Gathering a few things, he rode back, Stranger in a lather by the time he arrived. The night before their wedding, he gave her the wildflowers she had picked for him. She kissed him chastely on the cheek when he told her of their significance and she didn’t see his smile as she turned away. Perhaps she liked him.

After the wedding, they rode back to his holdfast. He explained to her they were married only in name, that they would not consummate until she was ready after she bled. The servants seemed to adore her, the chambermaids fawning over their new mistress all day long. At night, he would escort her to her chambers and bid her a goodnight. Each time she would softly kiss his cheek before shutting the door between them.

Most days passed in relative peace. She found a room she decided would become a library and started adding a few books she brought with her or bought from the village. At meals they sat together and she would tell him of a new story she read, or news of the villagers. As the ravens came, things started getting darker. First was news that Robb had gone to war against the Lannisters. Then news her father had been beheaded. When her brother crowned himself king, she wept that she didn’t want to be a princess, she just wanted her family back.

They sent ravens wishing the newly made Princes Bran and Rickon happy namedays, but Sandor kept his promise to protect his wife. She shuddered when she heard about the Lady Hornwood being raped by the Bolton bastard. She said little on the matter, but stayed close to him for several days, clearly frightened. She sought comfort with him again when news came that Theon Greyjoy took Winterfell, and then when she learned of the deaths of her younger brothers. Two days later, a maid told him Sansa had her first blood.

She came to his room after the bleeding stopped. She had been crying for so long he couldn’t bear to hurt her. Instead, he simply held her each night and listened to her breathe. She gave a strained smile the day a raven arrived to announce the wedding of King Robb. She kissed his lips for the first time then and asked in the tiniest whisper for him to take her to bed. He tried to be gentle, tried to show her how much he adored her. Her whimpers and sighs undid him, though, and he lost control. After that, the dam broke and he couldn’t keep his hands off her, couldn’t stand to leave their bedchambers. She didn’t seem to mind as she held him close, kissed him deeply, giggling merrily.

News both good and bad came during the Kings’ war. In their little northern oasis, she also gave him news: she was with child. After the birth, she often let him hold the tiny infant. When she whispered to him that she wanted more, he began to wonder if she might love him.


End file.
